


Lady Daciana's Night in the Phoenix Nest

by aunt_zelda



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Competition, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fantasizing, Fight Sex, First Time, Flirting, Groping, Knifeplay, Mutual Masturbation, Pinching, Scars, Vaginal Fingering, semi-public groping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26007490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: Daciana’s body already ached from the long patrol, and she knew from experience she would be sore tomorrow. She was quite looking forward to a quiet night with a bottle of cider she’d been saving, and perhaps that book Sir Beryl had lent her.Unfortunately it was not to be.Daciana spottedherturning the corner of Lindenbrook Lane. Daciana would know her anywhere: Justine Nevergreen, one of the city’s most notorious thieves.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Rakish Thief/Lawful Good Knight
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46
Collections: Femslash After Dark 2020





	Lady Daciana's Night in the Phoenix Nest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrospecial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospecial/gifts).



> Prompt pairing: Rakish Thief/Lawful Good Knight
> 
> As someone who often plays rogues in D&D, I had a lot of fun with this prompt.
> 
> I spent probably way too long coming up with the names, with a combination of fantasy name generators, babyname websites, and names I liked and mashing them up together. Hopefully the names work for you. 
> 
> See end notes for a historical fact that spoils a clue in this fic.

Lady Daciana Rosamund was exhausted from her day at the harvest festival. The Knights of Needlebrook had been charged with keeping the peace, which had amounted to breaking up a few fights, arresting thieves and drunks, and a particularly spirited chase with a runaway horse which had knocked over several stalls of merchants selling their wares. 

With a groan, Daciana divested herself of her heavy armor and set it aside in the fairground’s garrison. She would need to wear it again tomorrow, but there was no need to wear it all the way back to her modest room in the castle barracks. Daciana’s body already ached from the long patrol, and she knew from experience she would be sore tomorrow. She was quite looking forward to a quiet night with a bottle of cider she’d been saving, and perhaps that book Sir Beryl had lent her. 

Unfortunately it was not to be.

Daciana spotted _her_ turning the corner of Lindenbrook Lane. Daciana would know her anywhere: Justine Nevergreen, one of the city’s most notorious thieves. The woman’s long auburn hair stood out in light of the setting sun: she wore no hood to conceal herself. Bold and reckless, but then that was Justine’s way. 

Technically, Daciana was no longer on duty. She had no obligation to pursue Justine. But what if Justine was on her way to a burglary, or a bigger job? What if Daciana heard about it from the town crier tomorrow and knew she could have prevented the crime? Her honor could not stand such a shame. 

Steeling herself, Daciana turned away from the castle and began to pursue Justine. 

Daciana was not especially skilled at stealthy pursuit, but the bustle of the city as it shifted from day to night helped to conceal her. She was able to keep track of Justine well enough – the woman not only had striking hair, she was noticeably taller than most human women. While Daciana was a solid fighter, her strength distributed for endurance and force, Justine was built more like a duelist, or a dancer. Daciana thought of court ladies who were as deadly with a rapier as they were on the promenade, and shook herself: Justine was beautiful to be sure, but she was very dangerous. Daciana could not afford to let herself be distracted. 

Justine, seemingly oblivious to her pursuer, approached a tavern and entered. 

Daciana examined the sign: the Phoenix Nest. She wasn’t familiar with this particular tavern, but the city had dozens scattered around. She suspected, if Justine was so casually patronizing it, it was linked to the Thieves’ Guild. Many businesses this side of the river were, and rooting them out was a difficult and arduous process. For every corrupt tavern and pawn shop overturned by the Knights of Needlebrook, three more seemingly sprang up to accommodate for the loss of revenue. 

It could be a tavern full of thieves and rogues of all sorts. Worse, it could be a trap and Daciana was walking right into it. 

Daciana squared her shoulders and stepped inside, coming face to face with a bouncer. She was a half-orc with blonde curly hair and bare arms covered in old and recent scars. When she flexed, the mermaid tattoo on her left arm rippled. 

The bouncer regarded Daciana coolly. Daciana imagined what she must look like to the woman: the rough clothes and broad shoulders of someone who worked for a living, dark hair braided close to her head in a crown pattern, slanted eyes and brown skin which hinted at southern elf heritage, an old scar on her cheek and an even older burn that started on her neck and vanished underneath the collar of her shirt. 

“No trouble,” the bouncer grunted finally, stepping aside to let her pass. 

“No trouble,” Daciana agreed, striding inside. She hoped she could keep her word, even if this was a Thieves Guild establishment. Surely there were innocent people inside simply doing their jobs and keeping their heads down. 

The tavern was warmly lit, various colored enchanted lanterns strung along the walls and ceiling. A trio of musicians was set up on a small stage in the far corner playing a jaunty tune. Scattered at tables and booths set into the walls were many people. Most appeared to be average citizens, no known criminals, no nobles that Daciana knew, and certainly no fellow knights. From behind a rough-hewn counter, severs doled out food and drinks – by the looks of things, mostly brimming mugs of ale and steaming bowls of harvest stew. 

“Rosa!”

Daciana stiffened. Only one person called her that. It was an intentional tease about her surname, the noble house of Rosamund reduced to a trite nickname. 

“Rosa, over here!” Justine waved animatedly from a booth in the corner farthest away from the musicians. 

Daciana reluctantly approached.

“Rosa, you look exhausted. Please, sit!” Justine was grinning broadly. Daciana noted that one of her teeth now glinted silver: subtle flaunting of wealth, or a necessary replacement after a fight? 

Daciana sat across from Justine. The booth curved in a nook set into the wall; by shifting either one of them could have moved closer to the other. This was a dangerous spot, and had a perfect vantage point of the rest of the tavern. 

“My my, Lady Rosamund, in the Phoenix Nest of all places.” Justine leaned back and eyed Daciana up and down, with much more warmth than the bouncer had. 

Daciana scrutinized Justine. She wasn’t dressed for thievery, at least not overtly. Her clothing was fine but not conspicuously so, a simple dark shirt and trousers in russet tones, a green bodice with embroidered designs curling along it. Her auburn hair was loose, framing her heavily freckled face in waves. She had a scar that split her right eyebrow in half, and another which tugged at the corner of her lower lip. She wore no jewelry, her ears weren’t even pierced, but Daciana knew this was the woman who’d stolen Lady Morwenna’s infamous broach collection. 

“Do you know what kind of tavern this is?” Justine grinned as if at some private joke. 

“… a tavern?” Daciana glanced around. “Don’t tell me, this is the headquarters of the Thieves Guild.”

Justine snorted. “Haven’t you noticed that everyone here is a woman?”

Daciana blushed as a quick scan of the room confirmed what Justine had said. She’d been thrown off by the table of dwarves near the stage, most of whom wore their beards long regardless of gender identity. Now that she was looking more closely, she realized they were all braided in the female fashion of the season. “… oh.”

“‘Oh’ indeed.” Justine laughed. It was a beautiful sound, like the ringing of the morning bells from the temple near Daciana’s home. 

A thief ought not to sound like that. She should have cackled, humiliating Daciana, surely? 

“Have you any schemes in mind tonight?” Daciana asked, voice slightly strained. She wanted to get back on track: she was a knight, and Justine was a thief, and where they were didn’t matter. 

“Schemes?”

“Plots, plans, wicked designs upon the people in this establishment.” Daciana waved a hand.

“Hmmmm, well now,” Justine nodded at the musicians on the stage. “See that elf with the dreadlocks? I was thinking I might go up to her after the show and _steal_ her … away for the rest of the night!” She laughed at her own joke.

Daciana’s face burned. 

“Are you going to arrest me, _Lady_ Rosa?”

“Maybe I should,” Daciana grumbled, but her heart wasn’t in the threat. 

“Aw, don’t be sad,” Justine flagged down one of the servers. “Here, let me buy you a drink at least? To apologize.”

“For what?” Daciana blinked. 

“For not being the _wicked_ rogue you so clearly wanted to find tonight.” Justine turned and smiled brilliantly at the server. “Two glasses of mead, please, from the Honeyhart barrel.”

“Coming right up. Anything else, ladies?” 

“Well, I was going to eat. Rosa …?” Justine raised an eyebrow. 

Justine thought of the cold supper that no doubt awaited her at the castle at this hour. Normally she didn’t mind, but after a hard day’s work she wanted something warm. “That stew does smell delicious.”

“Two stews! And a harvest loaf, if you’d be so kind.” Justine handed the server five silver coins. “Keep the change.”

The server winked at Justine and bustled off. 

“I didn’t _want_ to find you tonight,” Daciana said as soon as the server was out of earshot. “I was on my way back to the castle from the harvest festival. Then I spotted you.”

“Off duty?” Justine asked archly. 

“… if you must know, yes.” Daciana sighed heavily. 

“What a coincidence, so am I.” Justine spread her hands. “Here we are, two beautiful young women, no worries or responsibilities, the entire night before us.” She had a glint in her eye.

Daciana wasn’t sure if she liked that glint or not. Was it a glint of danger, of promise? And a promise of what exactly?

The server returned with two full glasses of mead. “Stew’ll be out shortly,” she said before hurrying off to the table of dwarves. 

“Cheers,” Justine raised her glass.

Daciana tapped her glass to Justine’s and took a deep drink. The mead was sweet and well matured. She hadn’t indulged in something that good in far too long. 

“… beautiful?” Daciana fixed Justine with a piercing stare. 

“I’m not afraid to admit it,” Justine took another sip from her glass. “Are you?”

“A knight fears nothing.” Daciana said promptly. 

“Oh that’s not true. I’ve seen plenty of knights frightened in fights, down dark alleys, or just before a tourney.” Justine considered Daciana. “Not you though. Not until tonight that is.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Daciana took another sip of mead to conceal a nervous gulp. 

“Mmm, maybe not. Maybe you’re afraid of yourself.”

Daciana blinked. Was the mead going to her head already? “Why should I be afraid of myself?”

“I think,” Justine said slowly, licking a drop of mead from her lower lip, tongue flicking over the scar, “I think you’re afraid of wanting.” 

Daciana opened her mouth to argue, but then the server returned with their food. 

“Oh, excellent!” Justine tore a piece of the harvest loaf off and dunked it into her stew. “I wait all year for these, mmmmm.” She visibly savored the meal, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

Daciana felt heat rising to her cheeks again. It was the mead, she told herself, that was all. It wasn’t the curve of Justine’s throat as she leaned back, her dexterous fingers plucking at the bread, or her lips parting to blow on her spoonful of stew. 

The food was good, as Daciana ate her portion. The harvest loaf was mottled with herbs, each bite a new savory flavor. 

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Justine. Their encounters before had been brief, chases and confrontations, warnings and scuffles. Once Justine had even been arrested, held at the garrison by the western wall, but there hadn’t been enough evidence to keep her. The entire time in the cell she’d engaged Daciana in banter that, in hindsight, Daciana suspected had been far more flirtatious than she’d realized at the time. 

“I was thinking,” Daciana said, as their food was nearly gone. “About that time by the western wall.” 

“Did you like seeing me in chains?” Justine held her wrists up and threw back her head in a suggestive pose. 

“I … no, no it wasn’t like that.” Daciana took a sip from her mead. She was nearly to the bottom of the glass now. “You were charming of course. I thought about … well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, no it matters.” Justine slid closer, curving around on the bench. Her thigh rested against Daciana’s. “Tell me.”

“I thought about what if … if I hadn’t been a knight after all.” Daciana whispered. This was nearly shameful, what she was admitting. She loved being a knight, it was a great honor, but it had imposed certain limitations on who she could and could not associate with at times. “What if I were just … a merchant woman, with a profitable business, and you visited one night.”

Justine laid a hand on Daciana’s knee. “Go on.” 

Daciana’s face was burning already. The corner was dark enough, the table low, nobody could see them but … still there was the thrilling feeling of risk, the chance of being discovered. “I thought about you pinning me to the bed with your knife, getting your hand under my skirts and … oh.”

Justine’s hand was brushing against the fabric between Daciana’s legs. It was only pressure, no skin-to-skin contact, but Daciana felt herself shift to meet the pressure all the same. 

“You were wet, weren’t you, in the fantasy?” Justine mused. “Wet and dripping for me to come steal away all your treasures?” 

Daciana gulped and nodded. “Yes.” She reached over and eased her hand between Justine’s legs, palming the russet fabric of her trousers. “You were too. You’d straddle my face and order me to … well, to convince you to leave me with at least some of my fortune.”

“Oh never,” Justine groaned, rocking her hips against Daciana’s hand. “Never, never. I’d _ruin_ you.”

One of the servers circled to a table nearby, banging a tray down with a clang. 

Daciana drew away from Justine quickly, nearly knocking over her glass of mead. She looked at Justine in shock and open desire. 

“See something you like?” Justine asked, breathlessly. 

“Yes.” Daciana couldn’t blame this on the mead. Her skin tingled but her mind was clear. Emboldened by her admission, she asked “And you?” 

“I’ve never seen you out of your armor before.” Justine stared boldly at Daciana in return. “Now that I have, I’d like to see … quite a bit more of you.” 

Daciana laughed. “Now _that_ is a line.”

Justine laughed as well. “But did it work?”

“From you? Yes.” Daciana found her glass was empty. “Does this tavern have rooms?”

“It does.” Justine smiled. “Buy us another round and meet me upstairs?”

~*~

By the time Daciana had gotten the glasses refilled with mead and made her way upstairs, Justine was already opening up a room, key in hand. 

Daciana hesitated. She could leave, right now, and keep Justine firmly in mind as a self-indulgent fantasy. 

She took a drink from her glass and stepped into the room. 

It was a simple, small room. The window was shuttered, there was a wash basin on a small table, and of course a single bed with fresh sheets. One of the magical lanterns hung from the ceiling, pulsing with a soft orange glow. 

“So, what do you like?” Justine asked, taking her glass deftly from Daciana’s hand and sipping the mead. 

“… you?”

“Well yes, I gathered that.” Justine smirked. “Do want me to take charge?” 

Daciana’s face heated at the thought. “I think … I want us to fight and decide.”

Justine licked her lips. “Oh I was hoping for that, with you. Anything you don’t want?” 

Daciana was about to say ‘nothing,’ then she thought of knives, and scars that ached in the winter still. “No blood. No scarring.” 

“Gotcha. Same for me.” Justine set aside her glass. She sat on the bed and began unlacing her boots. 

Daciana realized that would be difficult to incorporate into the later proceedings and did the same, leaning against the door. 

“I don’t think you will, but if you set me off in a bad way, I might say ‘cinnamon.’” Justine’s tone was light, but Daciana caught a look of tension in her shoulders. “If I say that, stop touching me and back off, ok?”

“I understand.” Daciana hoped nothing would elicit that. “I promise.”

“Good.” Justine kicked her boots under the bed. Then without a word, she pounced. 

Daciana had been expecting something like this. She dodged, spinning and managing to pin Justine to the door instead. “Got you,” she growled, feeling a pleasant rush of triumph. 

“Oh no, whatever shall I do?” Justine was giggling under her breath. 

“You could beg me, for a start,” Daciana mused. 

“Beg you? Never.” Justine wriggled free and shoved Daciana backwards. 

Daciana’s legs hit the edge of the bed. Another shove and she toppled. Justine was on her then, straddling her … kissing her.

Daciana gasped, arching up, kissing back. She hadn’t kissed someone in while, not since a rather chaste kiss before the last tourney, and she hadn’t been kissed this intensely in a very long time. Justine kissed like a woman who hungered for nothing else, not wine or gold or silks, only kissing. 

When they broke apart Daciana moaned at the loss. 

Justine smirked and brandished a knife in the air. 

Daciana went very still. 

“You want more?” Justine asked. “You could beg me.” She tapped the blade at the collar of Daciana’s shirt. 

“Beg you?” Daciana tilted her chin up defiantly. “Never.”

Justine’s eyes sparkled. She pulled Daciana’s shirt open and traced the knife along her collarbone. Carefully, she circled the pattern of the burn on Daciana’s neck and right shoulder. “What was this from?”

“Alchemist mishap. I was only a squire. My knight nearly had the man’s hide.”

Justine pressed the flat of the blade to the scar on Daciana’s cheek. “And this?”

“A raid by the docks last winter. Smugglers. One of them got lucky.”

Justine snarled. “Bastards, that was a nasty bunch. Don’t tell, but I’m glad you routed them out of there.”

Daciana raised her eyebrows. 

“I do have some standards,” Justine shifted up and perched firmly on Daciana’s lap. “Now, unlace me.”

Daciana reached up and began to unlace Justine’s bodice. It wasn’t especially tightly bound, but the knots were good and the position unusual. Finally it was off and Justine’s heaved a deep sigh of release. Her shirt was still on, but now Daciana could see the shape of her breasts behind the thin fabric. 

Justine’s blade came to rest over Daciana’s belly. “Good job. Now, get these off, or I’ll cut them off.”

Daciana squirmed and struggled to remove her trousers and undergarments. It wasn’t easy with Justine perched on her, and the knife so close. Daciana took advantage of Justine’s distraction while Daciana began to shuck off her unbuttoned shirt, and suddenly twisted around. Justine sprawled and the knife clattered to the floor. Then Daciana was on top of Justine. 

“Pity you dropped that, I might have used it to cut these off,” Daciana mused, tracing along the seams of Justine’s trousers. “No matter.” She reached her hand up underneath Justine’s shirt and groped at her breasts, smiling as she saw Justine’s eyelids flutter. 

“Oh … you’re making it difficult for me to remember … I’m supposed to be fighting you …” Justine moaned. 

“You can always surrender,” Daciana reminded her. “Maybe I’ll have you like this, still in your clothes, make you soak your way through here,” she shifted her knee down between Justine’s legs. 

Justine clenched around her leg tightly. “No, no please, I want more!”

“So do I.” Daciana pushed up Justine’s shirt, baring her chest. Her breasts were as beautiful as she’d imagined. The nipples were hard now and Justine made a delightful squeaking sound when Daciana pinched at them. Daciana thought of lavishing them with kisses, but that would require letting her guard down, and Justine would no doubt turn that to her advantage. 

“Are you going to stay on my tits all night?” Justine whined. 

“I just might.” Daciana was enjoying her exploration of Justine’s body, savoring the rare sight. She found old knife scars on her sides, including a particularly wicked looking one that had required stitching. Peeking up from her hip was a feathered dragon, waving its talons up over the waistband of Justine’s trousers. 

“You wouldn’t dare. You’re just as eager as I am for this.” Justine smirked. “Come on, _Lady_ Rosa: treat me right.”

Daciana had the dreadful urge to slap the smirk off Justine’s face. Instead she yanked Justine’s trousers down, and her undergarments, letting them tangle around her ankles. The dragon was fully revealed now, curling over her hip and down along her thigh, a jaunty thing with a feathered mane and a pattern of gold and red. 

That accomplished, Daciana turned Justine over and pinned her face-first on the bed. 

Justine, squirming in protest, demonstrated two things to Daciana: firstly, she was stronger than she often let on, and secondly, she had a great ass. 

Daciana couldn’t resist a light smack to each cheek. 

This made Justine yelp in indignation, but also startled her into stillness for a moment. 

“This is in the way,” Daciana struggled to remove Justine’s shirt and unlaced bodice. 

In the process, they ended up tangled in each other, Justine’s clothes, and finally the blanket of the bed. At last, Justine was naked to match Daciana. Justine had a hand clenched tight around Daciana’s unraveling braid, and Daciana had taken the bold decision to grip Justine by the hip and slide a finger into her cunt. 

After an intense pause, each of them breathing heavily, Justine shifted her hips forward. “You have me, Lady Rosa. Use me.”

“Daciana,” Daciana said. “I … if my fingers are inside you, you ought to call me by my name.”

“Very well … _Daciana_.” Justine’s eyes sparkled. “You have me. Now what do you want?”

Daciana wanted many things, some of which she was certain where physically impossible. “To make you moan, again, and again.” 

Justine smiled. “The feeling is entirely mutual, I assure you.” She let go of Daciana’s hair and reached down, clever fingers probing between Daciana’s legs. “Shall we race, Daciana?”

“I’m in no hurry,” Daciana shifted into a more comfortable position. “We have all night.”

“Then let’s make the most of it.” Justine thrust two fingers into Daciana. 

It had been too long since Daciana had coupled with someone in such a way. She was familiar with her own body, but learning the nuances of another required patience and dedication. Daciana prided herself on being a considerate lover, but if it was a race to be run she doubted she would be the victor. 

Justine, evidently, either had more experience or was a faster learner by far. Her expression of focused pleasure seldom flickered, even when Daciana managed to make her gasp. And it was Justine’s clever fingers which seemed to move far faster than Daciana’s could have ever hoped to achieve. 

“Do you know what … some people … call this?” Justine rocked her hips forward. 

“What, coupling?” Daciana had heard a fair few words for it in her time as a knight. Most of them were quite crude.

“Got your fingers in my … _coin purse_.” Justine giggled. 

“What, really?” Daciana asked. That was too perfect for them, considering Justine’s profession. 

“I’m serious!” Justine squirmed. “Oh yes, there, there, to the left and … ahhhhh …”

Daciana luxuriated in the intimacy enveloping both of them. They were so close that their breath was hot on each other’s faces, and Daciana would swear she could practically hear Justine’s heartbeat. Best of all were the sounds Justine was making, no longer the boisterous loud declarations from previous encounters, but soft, delicate whimpers and moans. Daciana wanted to stay silent to hear Justine as much as she could, but Justine’s fingers were too dexterous, curling and stroking and wringing cries of shock and delight from Daciana’s mouth at every moment. 

“I’m … oh … _oh_ …” Daciana groaned, knowing she was going to be first. 

“I win.” Justine smirked, leaning in to kiss Daciana as her body pulsed. 

Daciana shuddered and rode through the waves, pressing her lips to Justine’s in a sloppy kiss. 

As her heartbeat began to ease, Daciana looked at Justine. “Best two out of three?” she offered. 

“Gambling? And you a lady knight!” Justine laughed. “I accept!” 

Daciana smirked and slid down along the mattress, nestling between Justine’s legs. 

“No fair!” Justine protested, even as she parted her knees to allow Daciana between them. “Daciana, how am I supposed to compete with this?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Daciana lowered her head and set about winning that bet. 

~*~

Daciana awoke to the sunrise bells. She groaned, rising up, and realized she was in an unfamiliar bed. Looking around, the night’s activities came back to her in a rush. Had she really … and had Justine … and had they … 

Justine was nowhere to be seen. To Daciana’s surprise, her clothes and money pouch were where she had left them. There was even a note folded nearby. 

_Look for me here anytime you’re off-duty – J_ The note had a flourish that looked like a dagger piercing a heart. 

Tucking the note into a pocket, Daciana got dressed and headed downstairs. She had just enough time to buy some day-old harvest bread to eat on her way to the fairground. 

She thought she spotted Justine as she turned a corner onto the main road. Was that a shopkeeper yelling about a thief? 

Daciana smiled fondly and headed to the fairground. After all, she wasn’t officially on duty yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, "Phoenix Nest" is ye old slang for vagina! Goes back to at least 1618! I could not resist using that when I found that in my research.


End file.
